Sugar Magnolia in Hog Heaven
by Mairemor
Summary: Take a road trip to Woodstock '69 with Bon Temps scandalous duo, Pam and Sookie, as they meet a certain Viking commune member, party with the locals, groove to the music, and have sextacular adventures! For Eric n' Sooks - Summer of '69 contest
1. Chapter 1

**Eric n' Sooks - Summer of '69 One-shot Contest**

**Sugar Magnolia in Hog Heaven**

**Mairemor**

**Characters: Eric, Sookie, Pam, Amelia, Tray, Bill**

**Disclaimer: Even though they're visiting their local smoke shop in tie-dyes and bellbottoms, Eric, Sookie & Co remain CH's property. I only take them out so that we can have a good trip together.**

_**Sugar magnolia, blossoms blooming, head's all empty and I don't care,  
Saw my baby down by the river, knew she'd have to come up soon for air.  
Sweet blossom come on, under the willow, we can have high times if you'll abide  
We can discover the wonders of nature, rolling in the rushes down by the riverside.  
Well, she can dance a Cajun rhythm, jump like a Willy's in four wheel drive.  
She's a summer love in the spring, fall and winter. She can make happy any man alive.**_

_**(Grateful Dead)**_

_**A/N: Peace, love, and a world of thanks to the marvelous women who beta my various stuff, keep me going, and tell me when enough is enough: FDM, Konfetti, Cassandra Mello, & Gaijin Vamp. All four of them tag teamed this fic. Any remaining errors are entirely my own fault. **_

**Sookie's POV: **_**How does it feel/ to be on your own/ with no direction home/ Like a rolling stone? (Bob Dylan)**_

When Pam's 1965 powder blue Corvair pulled into my driveway on August 10, 1969 it had dings along the door panels and a rusty bumper. Still, the Corvair, which Ralph Nader called "unsafe at any speed," was the car she swore would take us away from Bon Temps Louisiana, to the town of Bethel, New York. We had no intention of ever returning. At the ripe old ages of twenty-four and nineteen, Pam and I were the scandals of Bon Temps; Pam for having the gall to separate from Andy Bellefleur after he gambled away their fortune, and me for following Timothy Leary's advice by tuning in, turning on, dropping out of LSU, _and_ for breaking off my engagement with Bill Compton after he returned from his tour of duty in Nam.

Bill returned to us from Vietnam in February of '69 with a purple heart , several bronze service stars, and ghosts in his eyes His mom and I had sown bed sheets together and painted "Welcome Home Bill !" on them. When he saw them, he tore them down without a word. He'd seen too many of the boys we'd grown up with shattered in firefights with the NVA and the Viet Cong in those steaming jungles; he'd killed too many "gooks." I tried for a month to make things right, so did he, but some essential part of the man he had been was broken. When he started sleeping with Selah Pumphry, whose wealthy parents looked and acted like Tricky Dick and Plastic Pat Nixon, what I felt was relief.

I could almost thank him for giving me a reasonable excuse for breaking the whole thing off. People being what they are, most folks saw me as the selfish one. They shook their heads and whispered behind my back when they thought I wasn't looking and couldn't hear. Most people thought that Bill, who was related to the plantation owning Bellefleurs, was too good for Susanna Hale Stackhouse.

I had rolled up my sleeping bag, packed my backpack with some clothes, toiletries, and a few cans of food, my brother Jason's old tent, and the wad of cash that I kept beneath a loose floorboard in my closet. We'd planned to pick up more goods along the way to this far out Aquarian music festival, featuring The Who, Jefferson Airplane, Janis Joplin, Jimmy Hendrix, and Joan Baez. After placing the note I'd written to my grandmother on the kitchen table, I hopped in the car, feeing excited and guilty. My brother Jason was off being a "hippie freak" god knew where, and now I was leaving too. Bon Temps was a town where any hint of radical dissent was met with the bumper sticker retort, "America: Love It or Leave It!" Jason and I had been to school, staged sit–ins, been in anti-war protests, and loathed the hatred and misplaced fear that had murdered JFK, MLK, RFK, Malcolm X, and Kent State's innocent protestors.

As we drove out of Bon Tempe accompanied by the Byrds' version of _Turn, Turn, Turn,_ I really had to agree that there was indeed a time for every purpose under heaven. The air was silky and warm. The radio played great music, and as we passed a joint back and forth, our prospects and Woodstock's Aquarian Exposition seemed very groovy indeed. This was our time to be free, to enjoy our lives. We were young, sexy, good looking blond chicks, decked out in love beads, and India blouses, with headbands around our long hair.

I took a hit and passed the Mary Jane. "I've decided to change my name and take on a new identity! From now on call me Sookie."

Pam launched into her throaty laugh, "Now I _know _you're stoned! Why not 'Blossom,' or 'Wind Star,' or, um, 'Clear Creek?' " Being Southern, she pronounced "creek," "_crick_."

"Naw, _Sookie'_s different and, just more _me."_

Pam snorted, "Yeah, sort of goofy! It makes you sound all sweet and edible like a _cookie. _Hey, why don't you call yourself '_Cookie ?'_ Mmmmm, I'd love a cookie right now…maybe a box of cookies."

This was about the depth of our conversation for the next fifty miles. We'd dealt with enough grim issues in the past few months, and now we just wanted to spend a few days listening to great music, and having one hell of an adventure.

We'd have to get on with our lives, find jobs, and find a direction; but that summer, we sensed that this huge music festival in Woodstock was the only place to be on the planet.

Pam had heard from Eric, a college friend, who worked on a hippie-commune called The Hog Farm, that organizers were looking for workers for the weekend.

As she took another hit, she explained for the umpteenth time, "This way we can get in for free. Eric says we can stay with them, so we'll have a place to put up our tent and sleep too."

It took us three days to travel the thousand plus mile distance. We slept in the car, living on bread, cheese, and bottles of warm Coke. The traffic was still light as we neared Bethel, but even days in advance; more people were showing up than expected. The party atmosphere was starting already. People were riding on car hoods and bantering back and forth.

We turned off onto a dirt road and entered Max Yasgur's dairy farm. A gently sloping field on the property formed a large natural amphitheater, and a stage had been constructed at the foot of the hill.

We spread our quilt and sat on the hillside in the hot sun waiting for our turn to get interviewed. After landing jobs in the Food for Love booths, we headed over to The Hog Farm to look for Pam's friend Eric. The Hog Farm was organizing a huge camp out, and since they were giving us food and a place to sleep, we helped with the preparations. Pam tapped my shoulder excitedly, as I passed out beans and rice.

She hollered, "Eric! Eric! Over here," and waved like a madwoman as a shirtless, smiling Viking with long flowing, blond hair and a light red gold beard made his way toward us.

"Pam!" His voice was deep, masculine, and decidedly Yankee.

As he swung Pam into his arms, I felt an overwhelming need to touch his bare, muscled chest, with its sprinkling of golden hair. Thank god hippies are so touchy-feely, because as soon as Pam said, "Eric, this is my friend Sookie," I was in his arms. I loved the musky smell of him as he pressed me closer, and had to close my mouth firmly to keep myself from running my tongue around his nipples; something I'd never even thought about doing to Bill, the only other man in my life.

**Eric's POV: **_**I want you, you know I want you so bad babe /I want you, you know I want you so bad/ It's driving me mad, it's driving me mad **_**(**_**The Beatles)**_

I joined the Hog Farm Commune in December of '68, and found the routine and peacefulness of the community filled some hollow spot in my soul that appeared when Vietnam claimed the life of my brother Leif. That hollowness came back right before the Fourth of July, when I received the dreaded letter from the draft board ordering me to report for military duty in October. I grew up blue collar and Democratic. Left wing politics and my brother Leif's pointless death in some rice paddy in the Mekong Delta in '67, shaped my anti-war stance, and although I hadn't made it to the Democratic Convention in Chicago, I was an ardent supporter of the Hog Farm's truly swinish presidential candidate, Pigasus. I had hoped to stay with the Hog Farm commune when they moved to Llano, New Mexico. Now, I'd have to make other plans if I wanted to stay out of Vietnam or prison. I had just come back from building the last fire pits on the festival grounds, when I saw Pam. Then, I saw _her. _Pam was a pretty girl, and we'd slept together once or twice, but as the saying goes, we were better friends than lovers. I never understood why she let her parents push her into a status marriage with that plantation owning asshole.

My eyes were locked on Pam's beautiful friend as we hugged and Pam chanted, "I'm free, free, free! Now I've gotta find someone to turn me on!"

Several guys' ears pricked up at that announcement. It didn't take long before she went off to our psychedelically painted school bus, Road Hog, with a wild eyed character wearing a monk's habit painted with peace signs.

When I pulled Sookie against me and inhaled the sweet musk of patchouli and clean, sun warmed skin, I was totally unprepared for my cock's immediate and urgent need to get much closer. With her hourglass shape, large, soft, breasts, firm tan thighs, and beautiful all-American girl features, she was every guy's wet dream. Her Southern accent was as sweet and thick as honey. She asked me something about the commune as I absently fingered a loose tendril of hair on her cheek. She was still pressed against me. I could feel her hardened nipples against my chest. We were turning each other on, and I didn't want it to stop, so I offered her a place to sleep, and she smiled and said "Thanks, that's mighty kind of you," in that adorable accent.

We set up the tent she'd brought next to mine, just in case Pam found her way back. Then we ate some fruit, beans and rice, passed around a bottle of wine, and smoked some tasty black hashish to amuse ourselves while we listened to the jam sessions and rapped with some of my friends and their women. Sookie sat between my legs and my arms encircled her; all of the other guys were digging my beautiful chick. One horny guy was eye fucking her. This was a peaceful happening, and I'm a pacifist to this day, but I think I would have done him some damage if he'd hassled her. Acting like she couldn't speak for herself, he licked his lips and asked me, "She your old lady?"

In answer, Sookie slid her arms up around my shoulders and brushed her lips against mine. That was all that I needed. I pulled her against me so that my hard cock pressed against her soft skin, traced her soft lips with my tongue, then parted them. She moaned into my mouth, licking and swirling lightly. The girl knew how to kiss and we got down to business. The conversation had been replaced with hungry noises and moans, as other couples decided to follow our lead. I moved on top of her; her legs parted, and my cock ached and throbbed against the seam of her jeans. My hands were twisted into the thickness of her hair. I wanted to fuck her right there, but Sookie had other plans.

Her flushed face was eager, as she whispered. "Someone mentioned a lake down the way; do you know where it is?"

I nodded, and pressed against her, kneading her firm round ass, and hoping to god she'd just to stay put.

Sookie wriggled out from under me, grabbed my hand and tugged. "Let's go skinny dipping!"

**Sookie's POV**: _**It's the time of the season/ When the love runs high/ In this time, give it to me easy/ And let me try with pleasured hands/ To take you and the sun to promised lands/ To show you every one/ It's the time of the season for loving (The Zombies)**_

Eric took my hand and I ran behind him, giddy from the hash, the wine, and the thought that I was finally going to get laid. Oh, yeah, Bill and I had never actually rounded third base to home plate. Birth control wasn't legally available to single girls back then, so not being careful had very serious consequences! But our hot make-out session had made me too horny and excited to care. The sun was setting, casting a rosy glow over the growing crowds of flower children, freaks, and straights, some naked, some clothed, who were discovering their own adventures.

As we neared the woods, Eric just picked me up and brought me through the trees to a good sized lake, where a couple of dozen men and women were already enjoying the water. We both stripped off our clothes and stood naked eating each other up with our eyes. Oh my god, he was beautiful! He towered over me like a lithe and powerful Viking god. Before I lost my courage, I walked over to him and ran my hands over the muscles that rippled down his arms and gasped as my bare breasts pressed against his warm chest. He took my hand and guided it to his huge, hard cock. He was groaning and skimming his hands down either side of my waist, pressing his palms into the small of my back. Then, cupping my ass, he began to pull me against him rhythmically. He moaned and pressed his cock against my stomach while I ran my fingers over his high, tight ass. Then he sort of growled, scooped me up, and back into the woods we went. Needless to say, the skinny dipping was delayed while my cherry was thoroughly and resoundingly popped.

I was so intent on Eric that, to this day, all I can tell you about the woods was that I wasn't lying on rocks or poison ivy.

"Eric," I gasped as he laid me down, "This is my first time…I'm a…a virgin."

His blue eyes blazed into mine in the twilight as his hands gently outlined the circle of my breasts, then seared a path down my stomach, and onto my thighs, brushing my mound. His voice broke with huskiness, "Oh baby, that's far out! Don't worry, I'm going to make this a night neither of us will ever forget."

His hand cupped my breasts while his lips, and then his tongue teased my sensitive, swollen nipples. I moaned, ran my hands along his broad back, and wound my fingers into his hair as his tongue made a path between my breasts and down my stomach. As his hand slid down to the swell of my hips, he whispered his love for each part of my body.

"You are so beautiful Sookie! You taste so good...your breasts are so soft and beautiful."

His lips brushed my stomach, "Your skin's like warm silk…so fine…"

Blood pounded in my brain, leapt from my heart, and made my knees tremble as he parted my wet folds, "and your cunt…oh baby…so sweet…so tight…"

His tongue slid in and out, flicking up to my clit circling it, sucking it gently, and then his fingers worked my clit as he plunged his tongue deep into me. As he made love to me, my body was responding in ways that I had never imagined. I had lived in a world where such pleasures were never discussed, where there were things "good girls" didn't do. Now, I was drowning in the floodtide that Eric had unleashed as he helped me liberate my mind and body.

I wanted him inside of me now and moaned, "Eric, please!"

Then his hard body was on top of me. His lips recaptured mine, demanding more this time.

His tongue sent shivers of lust racing through me. He growled as my hand massaged the base of his cock and rubbed its tip over my wet clit. He eased himself just barely inside of me, and a moan of ecstasy slipped from my lips.

His voice was ragged, "Say it. I want to hear you say it!"

This was my declaration of independence from every social constraint ever laid upon me. My body ached for him as I arched up toward him, "Fuck me Eric. Fuck me now!"

He slid into me slowly, inch by incredible inch, until he filled me completely, then he glided upward until his shaft was pulsing against the lip of my throbbing cunt.

"Are you ready?"

"Oh god yes, please!"

With a cry of pleasure he, buried himself deep inside my warm, wet core, and then he rose and fell faster and faster. The heat of his body, coursed down the entire length of mine, and I abandoned myself for the first time to the whirl of sensation. My thoughts fragmented as his hand, lips and cock continued their hungry search.

He shifted so that he could suck my nipple and I arched to meet each powerful rhythmic thrust as he pulsed deeper and deeper into me, his eyes shut, his mouth slightly open, his breath harsh and uneven. He moved even faster and began pounding into me as I ground my hips into his urgent thrusts. My body melted against Eric's and my world was filled with him as he shuddered, plunged over the crest and poured himself into me in a long, hot release. Waves of ecstasy throbbed through me as my cunt erupted in great, shuddering, spasms, milking him to the last drop.

We lay exhausted, snuggled against each other with our legs intertwined, listening to the cicadas, the distant voices, and the sound of lake water lapping against the shore.

The mosquitoes finally rallied us into action, and we emerged from the wood with our arms about each other's waists, like Adam and Eve, and headed for the lake.

There weren't as many people now, and the full moon cast a slivery, rippling reflection over the water as we waded out and plunged under.

As we trod water Eric told me, "This here is Leon's Lake. Leon is about ninety, and has been living here forever." He chuckled, "He's been sitting out on his porch with a big old pair of binoculars watching the action. He would've probably died of a heart attack if he got an eyeful of you! His hand brushed my waist and breast, and his voice became serious, "But he'd surely die happy with the sight of you filling his head."

**Eric's POV:** _**You know that it would be untrue/ You know that I would be a liar/ If I was to say to you/ Girl, we couldn't get much higher/ Come on baby, light my fire/  
Come on baby, light my fire/ Try to set the night on fire… (The Doors)**_

I had never experienced such pure, explosive pleasure as I had with Sookie the first time we made love, the first time a man had entered her. But for me, our connection had been so intense that it had gone beyond physical pleasure. There was something innocent and pure about Sookie's personality. I'm not saying that there weren't shadows in her young life; she'd told me about her ex fiancé, the Nam vet, and I knew that she'd lost her parents early on and had grown up poor. Despite the darkness in her own life, she radiated a clarity and optimism that I had lost.

Her joy, her beauty, and her wit filled the hollowness I'd felt since Leif's death and the certainty that the next stop for me was Vietnam, or Canada. I wanted to protect her, I wanted to possess her, love her, and I wanted her to want me and love me. We hardly knew each other, but the atmosphere of Woodstock combined with the dark cloud of doom that was Vietnam, seemed to intensify and compress relationships. My friend Amelia, who claimed to be a bonafide witch, said that we were connected through past lives and karma. That night, she read our palms and the Tarot cards for us. With her peasant skirt and blouse, gypsy earrings and long, black, wiry hair, she really looked the part.

She bent over Sookie's palm as the firelight danced across it, and motioned for me to bend forward as she traced a line and then traced the same line on my palm until her fingers paused.

Satisfaction pursed her mouth, "See here, and here? You two have almost identical junctions on your lifelines! And when I laid out your cards you both had the High Priestess, and The Lovers cards in the same place in the circle! There's no doubt in my mind that you two are meant to be together for the long haul!"

Sookie was totally taken aback by the readings' similarity. That, plus Amelia's uncanny ability to pull out facts about her past (like the fact that Sookie still kept her mother's wristwatch in her jewelry box) convinced Sookie and me that Amelia was just uncovering something that we were already feeling in our hearts.

We had the tent to ourselves that night and Sookie may have just become an ex virgin, but her former fiancé must have given her plenty of practice in delivering class A head! Very lightly, she ran her fingers down the crisscrossing line of hair to my cock, traced the pulsing vein at the back with the tip of her tongue, and licked the pre cum off of my throbbing head, before flicking her pink tongue into my slit. A mischievous glint came into her eyes as she looked up at me and sucked the tip of my cock into her beautiful mouth. I groaned, wound my fingers into her hair, and began to thrust deep into her throat.

If deep throat had been an Olympic event, Sookie would have won the gold medal. My nickname in high school was "Soup Can," and that wasn't because I loved soup. I was also blessed with length proportional to my size twelve feet. She was phenomenal! I had never been so hard. My cock was pulsing in rhythm to my pounding heart, as Sookie hollowed her cheeks and slid her warm, wet mouth deliciously up and down my cock, while her little hand grasped the base (like an Olympic torch!) and massaged rhythmically.

She picked up the pace. Her fingers and mouth caused a downpour of fiery sensations as she stroked and sucked my cock and balls, until I was ready to explode into her mouth. Instead, I flipped her over and entered her from behind, driving into her slick, hot pussy in one deep plunge. She bucked back against me as I gripped her hips like a drowning man and pulled her sweet ass back against my slamming thrusts, faster and faster, until her breath came in agonized gasps. I fought for breath as I felt her begin to vibrate, clench and flow with liquid fire all around me as we came together in a frenzy of simultaneous explosions.

We curled into each other, naked and wet from lovemaking, taking in the sweet scents of pot and sex before giving in to the numbed sleep of satisfied, and somewhat stoned lovers. Friday would be a very busy day, I had "Please Force" duty in the morning and Sookie had to work the Food for Love booth along with Pam, who had moved on from the Monk Man and was now the fuck buddy of the Hog Farm's world famous Wavy Gravy. He'd organized the commune members in Woodstock's non-intrusive security, the "Please Force" of which I was a member. The "Please Force" was supposed to keep order among the hundreds of thousands of carefree and colorful characters pouring onto Max Yasgur's Farm. With Pam clinging to his arm, Wavy Gravy had informed the press that our tactic was to exhort the trespasser with positive parenting tactics, "Please don't do _that,_ please do _this_ instead," and if that didn't maintain order, we'd resort to "Cream pies and seltzer bottles."

**Sookie's POV: **_**Didn't I make you feel like you were the only man, well yeah,/ An' didn't I give you nearly everything that a woman possibly can ?/ And each time I tell myself that I, well I think I've had enough,/ But I'm gonna show you, baby, that a woman can be tough./ I want you to come on, come on, come on, come on and take it,/ Take another little piece of my heart now, baby, (break a..) /Break another little bit of my heart now, darling, yeah. (have a..) /Hey! Have another little piece of my heart now, baby, yeah./ You know you got it if it makes you feel good (Janis Joplin)**_

When I woke up Friday morning, the small trickle of pre concert crowds had turned into a vast river that just kept rising until it spilled over its banks. What do you do when you expect a crowd of fifty thousand, and half a million people show up? For one thing, since the fences were already down, you make it a free concert. Eric had already headed out, flying pig armband in place, to do his duty on the "Please Force." An electric wave passed through my body, pebbling my nipples and drenching me to the core, just thinking about making love with him.

Well, shit fire and save matches! I hadn't come here looking for this, but Eric had my heart wrapped up tight. He'd told me about the draft, about his brother, and how he couldn't fight and kill for a cause he had no faith in. If we stayed together, I knew what was coming, and I'd have to decide whether I loved him enough to go the literal distance and cross the Canadian border with him, maybe forever. My grandmother used to say "The world's your oyster…" though, I'm sure she never really thought about any opportunities lying too far from Bon Temps. My life was open before me. I'd have to figure out if this crazy love I felt was a pearl worth keeping.

Eric had turned me on to the pleasures my body could give and receive. I felt like I'd been his "old lady" forever, so maybe witchy Amelia was right, and we had been connected in a past life. My thoughts kept returning to Eric and the mindblowing pleasures we'd shared as I hurried to get to work on time. Pam was already there looking hung over but happy. She winked at me.

"How's Wavy?" I asked, thinking about Eric and how _he'd_ been.

Joy bubbled in her laughter, "Oh Wavy's far out, but I've moved on so to speak. He's already got an old lady, but he was great in the sack and funny as hell!"

We all were inspired by the mood and music of Woodstock and sang and swayed as we served and ate. The crowds were so big that the entire weekend's food ran out before my shift ended! By mid morning Friday, the radio news said that The New York Thruway was shut down. People parked ten miles away and walked. Campsites filled the woods on either side of the road and hash, pot, and acid were being sold as openly as sandwiches.

But what really blew my mind, was the sight of the hillside packed with tens of thousands of peaceful people. Eric stopped by for me, and since we didn't have anything left to sell, we took off for the spot right next to the main stage that some Hog Farm folks had set up. Pam and her newest find, a big hippie in a tie dyed tunic named Tray, came down to join us.

Pam giggled, "Anyone want to drop some Orange Sunshine with us? Tray's an underground chemist, and he says this acid is top of the line!"

I lay back against Eric as we dropped the LSD on each other's tongues, passed around some bottles of wine, and grooved along with Richie Havens for what seemed like hours while we waited for the acid to hit. In two hours we were all soaring, and everything was psychedelic and groovy. In fact, it couldn't have been better. There I was with my amazing new lover and my best friend Pam, soaring higher than an eagle, listening to wonderful music in the Catskills. We'd become part of the Woodstock Nation. Two of my most beautiful memories happened near twilight, when lights and campfires glowed into the misty distance: the mystical melody of Ravi Shankar's sitar flowing around us like warm, sweet water, and Joan Baez's clear, angelic voice filling us as she sang _We Shall Overcome _at the very end of that first night.

During the next three days, storms rolled in and we were drenched, then baked in the August heat, then drenched some more. But during that whole weekend, I didn't hear one complaint about the rain, the heat, the lack of food, the mud, the rain, the mud! Despite the unpleasant conditions, we all pretty much coexisted and had the greatest time of our lives, with or without drugs, with or without food. We could feel a collective connection—we knew that what was happening here was special, that we were making history.

Hippie, straights, or somewhere in-between, we were America's youth. A half million tie-dyed, granny dressed, longhairs and their more conservative peers, clothed and unclothed managed to peacefully coexist in really rough conditions. Woodstock's inclusive spirit, Eric's spirit, the Hog Farm's spirit, all helped a small town girl from Bon Temps, Louisiana move beyond her comfort zone and choose to live as her conscience dictated.

Eric and I stayed together. At the beginning of September, we crossed into Canada, traveled cross country and started a new life in Vancouver, British Columbia. Sometime during that week we spent at Woodstock, we conceived our daughter, Adele. She's sitting beside us now with our eight year old grandson fidgeting nearby, as we listen to our sixteen year old grandson play Hendrix's _Six is Nine_ as part of a multi-band celebration of Woodstock's fortieth anniversary. A young woman takes the part of Grace Slick right down to the white fringed mini dress she wore when Jefferson Airplane took the stage in the wee dawn hours in '69. That morning, when Grace announced, "It's a new day," I was in Eric's arms as the sun rose over the hills, over the campfires of the people who'd been up all night. Then, she sang the words that still send ripples up my spine—words that put us on the path we're still walking together forty years later:

_**When the truth is found to be lies  
And all the joy within you dies  
Don't you want somebody to love, don't you...  
Need somebody to love, wouldn't you...  
Love somebody to love, you better...  
Find somebody to love**_

_**(Jefferson Airplane)**_

_*******************************************_

**_I have great respect for the young men who served with honor in Vietnam and for the young men who felt that they could not honorably serve and departed the country, one of whom is my brother Steve._**


	2. Chapter 2

_I'm thrilled to announce that **Sugar Magnolia In Hog Heaven**, my entry for the Eric n' Sooks Summer of '69 One Shot Contest has made the finals! I am humbled and awed to be included considering the enormity of the talent that submitted stories. Heartfelt thanks for reviewing my__ story, or any of my stories for that matter, or for putting them on alert. Every review and fav in my inbox makes me smile! _

_Soooo, the finalists are up at http://www(dot)fanfiction(dot)net/u/2008972/ Please, go read the stories and vote for your favorite. I'm honored to be included because they are amazing stories. Also, if you haven't had a chance to read the stories that didn't make the final cut, make a point of doing so-they're awesome!_

_*hugs*_

_Maire_


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